Zhuq'd Up
by Lord Cellytron
Summary: The great battle with Dai Shi is over, peace has come to the people of Ocean Bluff, and RJ and Fran's relationship takes an interesting turn. MAY contain spoilers for current and future episodes, but is MOSTLY AU/AT.
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE DE AUTHORA:**

**It's generally a REALLY, REALLY bad idea to start writing romance fic for a show that's in progress (granted, that doesn't stop all of us from doing it :P), with ever-changing characters and storylines. That said, the WORST of all possible ideas probably has to be to write a romance fic for a show that's in progress and have the fic take place AFTER the show has ended. I have no idea how Power Rangers Jungle Fury will end; I began this fic on June 23. This is all speculation.  
**

**  
But the plot bunnies. They would NOT leave me alone, and I had to write this, lest I go insane. Therefore, this fic is very, VERY AU. Casey, Lily, Theo and RJ are the only Rangers (even though the series is over in this timeline), Dai Shi has been defeated, and this is only harmless fluff. I realize the series will not end this way, and I don't claim that it will.  
**

**So, hope you enjoy. I haven't written het in forever. :D **

**(Also, yes, the title is a play on "Knocked Up". And I realize "Zhuq" is pronounced "Schwa". I think it's funny either way.)**

* * *

_What has happened here, the actions which took place, the battle which was fought, the lives that were claimed, the sacrifices that were made, must, from this moment on, remain locked in absolute secrecy, until the very last of us has come to the end of our time in this realm. Never, never must anyone know of this, lest history repeat itself._

_Now, my students, my comrades, begins the real trial: living as civilians in a world which must never know what you have done for its sake._

_I wish you great happiness, peace, and prosperity. Farewell._

* * *

And, just like that, it was over. RJ's time as a Pai Zhuq master, a Power Ranger and a mentor came to a close. A permanent close, and one that would take some getting used to.

And, just like that, almost as suddenly and almost as shockingly, Fran was late to work. Fifteen minutes late, to be exact. The cause of her lateness would take even more getting used to.

The Rangers-- the kids-- RJ's _employees_ almost didn't know what to do with themselves. The clock hit 9:01. Then 9:02. Then 9:05. And Fran wasn't there.

"She's never late," Lily said, needlessly. Someone had to state the obvious fact and break the unnerving silence.

The door opened, and everyone perked up, waves of relief washing over them. Their relief was unfounded, and they had to put on impassive, professional masks of friendliness as they realized it wasn't Fran arriving, but a mother and her children.

"Do you serve pizza for breakfast?" the woman asked, stifling a yawn.

Theo led them to a booth, inwardly groaning as he noticed that the youngest of the children was carrying a carrying case full of neon, glow in the dark Play-Doh.

"Hey, RJ," Casey said quietly, pointing to the clock, which now read 9:14. "I mean... you think we should call her, or something? You know, maybe she overslept?"

"Maybe she's sick?" Lily chimed in. "Maybe all those mozzarella sticks..."

RJ shook his head and tried to look nonchalant.

"Could be traffic..." Casey continued. "Uh...oh! Hey! Maybe her doorknob fell off?"

"Yeah, that's a good one," Lily said, nodding. "Or else, maybe she was watering her azaleas, and the hose got tangled, and she stepped in the middle of it and then--"

"I'm sure she's just... _late_," RJ said. "Everyone has to be late once in a while. It's just as they say, time waits for no-"

The door burst open, and there was Fran, hair disheveled, shirt untucked and stained, dark circles under her eyes, and a distressed, sickly expression on her face.

"RJ?" Fran gasped. "We gotta talk about three Fridays ago."

"Oh...man," RJ sighed.

* * *

He let her sit in his chair. Ordinarily, Fran would have been moved by his chivalry, but today, right now, all she could think about was how in the world she was going to _tell_ him what was going on.

"You look hungry," he said, looking at her face carefully. "You... I know just what you need--"

"Ohhh, no," she moaned. "No, I'm sure not hungry. Oh, boy, am I ever not hungry. I was hungry this morning..."

"This morning?"

"But then, I got so _sick_ and every bit of it, just, _blah_." She stuck her tongue out and made a waving gesture with her hand.

"Blah," RJ repeated. "Okay, scratch the asparagus, lentil and chocolate smoothie."

"Oh, no..." Fran drew a shaky breath and covered her mouth with both hands.

"Fran, maybe you should... I don't know, take the day off and just go home and realign your inner selves. Or, at the very least, take a nap..."

"RJ," Fran said slowly. "My inner selves... are fine."

RJ raised an eyebrow.

"How fine?"

Fran felt tears coming to her eyes, and she got up from the chair and fanned her face with both hands.

"Oh, RJ, at first, I wasn't sure. At first, I just thought, maybe I got the date wrong. Maybe I forgot, or... or something, but I always kept really, really close track of it and it never came any later than the 17th, ever, in my whole life, no matter _what_."

"Uh, well... okay," RJ said, still standing by the chair, a puzzled look on his face.

"And, I mean, I'm no dummy, RJ. I wasn't born yesterday. I know what that means. But I didn't know how I was going to tell anyone, I mean, I even know the guy at the drugstore, he used to tell me when the new Carla D'Arcy _Moonlight Serenade_ novels came out and he's known me since I was 13 years old and, you know, how could I tell him that I needed one for me? For... little Frannie the bookworm?"

"Indeed, quite the conundrum."

"You're telling me!" Fran laughed nervously. "Can you believe I actually hopped the bus and rode 45 minutes into Fairbanks just so I could get one from a store where I didn't know anybody?"

"I admire your... spunk," RJ was running out of appropriate yet neutral responses, and he realized that if Fran didn't get to the point rather soon, he might just have to come right out and ask her what she was getting at.

"Aww. Well, thank you," Fran nodded. "So, then, I get home, and I use it. And I read the directions and it says that purple is inconclusive and red is definitely yes. But blue is definitely no."

"Uh... so, what is yellow?" RJ asked.

"Yellow?" Fran frowned.

"Yellow... you know what, let's start over."

Fran nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Now, Fran, what exactly are we talking about?"

Fran gave him a stricken look.

"What? We're talking... well, we're... we're _talking_ about the fact, RJ, that I think I'm _pregnant_!"

Her voice became so shrill as she approached the word "pregnant", that it came out as an almost unintelligible shriek.

The air between the two friends thickened and the events of three Fridays ago came rushing back to them as RJ sank down into his chair, eyes wide.

There had been food. And drink. And celebrating. Dai Shi was defeated. The world was safe. There were more customers than ever. There had been much to celebrate, much joy. And amidst the joy, there had been a strange kind of energy. A feeling of invincibility, to be sure. A distinct air of "the hell with the consequences".

And, indeed, they had taken little heed of the consequences when Fran had stayed late to clean up. When she had been so tipsy she could barely stand, so giggly she could barely see. When she had picked up a tray of plates and immediately dropped them. When she had inexplicably decided to do a handstand on the stairs.

When he had held her legs so she wouldn't fall. When she had fallen anyway, and complained of dizziness. When he had suggested she go upstairs and lie down. And carried her. And touched her cheek. And kissed her.

When she had taken off her glasses and looked at him with emotion as deep as he had ever seen, and told him she loved him so, so much.

When she had woken up in his bed in a purple sweatshirt, and had quickly decided to go home with only a quick smile in his direction.

These memories, of course, omitted a major portion of the events, but neither of them could really call up any recollection of the undeniable _that_ which must have taken place. Yet, here was proof, or at least, a strong possibility that _that_ had happened between them.

And _what_ were they going to do now?

"Oh, boy," RJ finally said. "Oh, boy, Fran."

"Yeah," Fran half-laughed. "Yeah, I, uh..."

"Oh, boy."

"I don't know what I'm going to tell..." Fran trailed off. She didn't know how she was going to tell her parents. Her grandparents. The owner of the drug store. Casey. Lily. Theo. Everyone.

"How old are you, Fran?" RJ asked suddenly.

"What? Oh, I'm... I'm twenty-two," Fran said, quietly.

"That old."

"I look... young for my age."

It was horribly awkward. It was as if they were meeting for the first time; the barbed silences, the careful choosing of words, the underlying fear of rejection.

_Rejection_. From _him_. From _her_. It wasn't to be believed. They trusted one another, didn't they? They liked one another, didn't they? Maybe they even loved one another.

Indeed. No maybe about it. One way or the other, they did feel a great deal of love.

"Fran, listen," RJ said softly. He didn't look at her. "You know how I feel about you. I mean, you're like..."

She nodded, too many times.

"I know. I know. So are you. I mean, so do I. I mean..."

"This doesn't change that. Does it?"

"No! No! No! Of course not! We're still... no!"

He nodded.

She nodded.

"So..." Fran looked at her feet. "Um... what are we gonna do now?"

RJ stared at one of his TVs. He then stared at the floor, and gradually, he met her eyes again. His expression softened, and he shook his head.

"I don't know. What do you think we should do?"

Fran hesitated, probably too long. She shrugged.

"I mean... it's a pretty big deal," she said. There was a distinct thickness in her voice, and she blinked several times. "You know, it's not like..."

RJ stood up. Fran drew a breath, and felt her heart thudding in her chest.

"It's not like we can just..."

And then, he was beside her. He had his hand draped somewhat awkwardly on her shoulder, and she swallowed.

"We have to do _something_," she finished.

"What do you want to do, Fran?"

What could she say? What did she dare say?

"I want to get married," she blurted out. And, immediately, she regretted saying it. She gasped and turned away from him, her hands covering her face. "No, no, no. I didn't mean that. I didn't mean that. I don't know what to do, RJ, you tell me what to do."

RJ let out a shaky laugh.

"Sadly, I'm... just as new to all this as you are."

"But you have to have SOME idea; you have to have something... I don't know anything about all this, RJ, I really don't. I'm a good girl, I don't get into messes like this, oh, RJ, especially not with my friends. Especially not with you. Can't you just tell me what I'm supposed to do?!"

By now, she had begun crying. Heavy, dramatic sobs, fists pressed against her mouth. Everything was happening so _fast_ and everything was so _wrong_, so completely and totally _wrong_.

And then, she was facing him again, and he had his hands on her wrists and his face close to hers.

"Fran. Fran! Fran!" he tried to get her attention repeatedly. "Fran, come on, Fran, honey, it's okay. It's okay! It's going to be okay."

"No, it isn't! We ruined it! We ruined our friendship! How could we do that, RJ? How could we ruin it like that?!"

"Ruined? No! No, nothing's ruined! Come on, look at me! Nothing's ruined."

"Yes, it is!"

"No! No, come on."

"But what are we going to _do_?"

RJ looked at her soberly. His eyes ran from her face to her hands, then back to her face. He gently took her left hand in his.

"Well, why don't we get married, like you said?"

Fran gasped and drew her hand back.

"RJ! Come on, this is serious!"

"It certainly is. In fact, I can't think of anything more serious."

"I know! So think! Think of something!"

"I did. Well... actually, _you_ did."

He took her hand back. She felt her heart in her throat as he slowly dropped down on one knee and clutched her hand in both of his. Their eyes locked, and she felt her mouth open, and a tiny squeak came out.

"What do you say, Fran?"

_I can't! I can't! I can't! I can't!_

"Well," she finally said, "I'm here all the time, anyway."

"That you are."

"I already have a bunch of stuff in your fridge."

"Which I already know enough not to touch without permission!"

Fran felt color rising in her cheeks, and she laughed.

"Oh, wow. Okay. Let's do it! Let's get married!"

The hug they shared dripped with friendliness. Ultimately, it was only a hug, however.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

And, oh, the _laughter_. The mirth, and the excitement, and the joy. So much positive energy, so many positive words. A great whirlwind of activity and emotions. Her three best friends had done the work of an entire wedding party, had worked themselves to the point of exhaustion and then some to make her wedding amazing.

And she looked, she thought with a cocky little smile, just like a _princess_. Her hair, usually thrown into quick pigtails, was pinned and sprayed and smoothed to the point where she almost didn't believe it was the same mousy, snarly mess she dealt with on a daily basis. It didn't even _move_ when she turned her head. No, not even when she stepped on her hem and tripped as she walked through the door. It stayed put even when she ducked into the ladies' room for a brief bout of hyperventilating and a self-conscious belly check.

She was four months along. And, yes, she could tell. And she was sure everyone else could. The dress was pink, with a knee-length skirt and long, lace sleeves and a fitted bodice, and all the bouquets in the world couldn't mask the change in her shape. If they could have just had the wedding _sooner_, but it hadn't been possible; RJ had been born while his father was still in the Order of the Claw, and as a result, had not legally existed until he was of age to choose his own path (a hastily constructed rule enacted by Master Mao in the days when record keeping was far less accurate than it was today). Therefore, his birth certificate listed him as being ten years younger than his actual age, (seventeen rather than twenty seven). They had literally had to wait for RJ's twenty-eighth birthday before they could have a marriage certificate drawn up.

Whose dress had it been? Her grandmother on her father's side, that was right. Grandma Rachel. Grandma Rachel who had the pig farm and ended up writing that book about perseverance and being a World War II widow. The book she never showed anyone, because it wasn't a book, just a manuscript, and she never showed it to anybody because she said it was her business and no one else's, and now that she wrote it down, she could move on and forget everything.

No, hadn't she set fire to that manuscript? Before she died? No one else's business, no one else's business.

In any event, Grandma Rachel had the dress, and now it was Fran's. There were too many photos taken to deny the circumstances, and she had to deal with the bulge as well as she could.

But she was beautiful. Everyone said so. She couldn't stop laughing. No one could.

_Maybe it wasn't Grandma Rachel's dress_, she realized as the vows were taken. There was a city official in place of a religious figure; neither she nor RJ were exactly religious (RJ had, indeed, been _spiritual_, but that wasn't the same thing. And besides, that was all in the past. Animal spirits and the Order of the Claw were no longer a part of his life. Of _their_ lives. _Life_), and while Fran wanted the best for her new family and their child, she was hard-pressed to believe that a guy in a robe would have the power to grant it to her (or take it away, as the case may be).

They had eventually decided on a simple, straightforward ceremony at City Hall. The reception would take place at Jungle Karma, of course; a small gathering; her parents, RJ's father, Master--_Mister_ Finn, the Ran--_her coworkers_. The same group who were now attending the wedding.

They were wrapping it up. _They were wrapping it up_ and in another minute or so, she would be married. She would be MARRIED. She would be Mrs.--/i

"If no one objects," the judge was saying. His face was swimming. Everything was swimming.

And for just a brief moment, Fran realized what she was doing.

"By the power vested in me by the state of--"

RJ suddenly sneezed. Fran jumped and let out a half-scream. A chuckle rippled through the room.

"Whoo. Sorry," RJ said, sniffling. "Sorry, Fran," he whispered.

"That's okay. Can't argue with your nose," she replied. _Did that make sense? That probably didn't make any sense._

"--I now pronounce you husband and wife. If I may make a suggestion, son, blow your nose, or you'll give the bride your cold."

_Aunt Megan! Aunt Megan, the hippie who got married in the 60s! This was HER dress! That's what Mom meant when she said "You might as well." That explains the strange smell, too._

* * *

RJ and Fran were whisked into what used to be Fran's table and told to behave as customers.

"Order anything you want. Anything," Casey said, hands behind his back. "It'll be... I don't know, like you own the place."

"Quite the concept," RJ said with mock thoughtfulness. "Though, I have to say, if I owned a shop like this, the first thing to go would be the music."

"Sorry, can't do a thing about that. The guy we work for says it helps increase appetite and boost sales."

"He must know what he's talking about, he's a smart guy. Handsome, too. But, seeing as how the missus and I are the guests of honor, I think we're going to have to give an executive veto on the ambiance."

"It really is pretty bad," Fran said. "I mean, not the rest of the time, like, when I'm working. Then it's kind of okay. But, I mean... it _is_ our wedding."

"What the lady said," RJ smiled. "Now, as for the wedding feast."

"I kind of want a little of everything. I mean, eating for two and that whole thing. And then, I pretty much eat for two the rest of the time, anyway, so, wow. It would be like I'm eating for three. Or maybe four. I wonder how much--"

"So, basically, everything in the kitchen," Casey sighed.

"Oh, and burn it! I like it crispy."

There was Fran's mother now, coming in the door, looking the place over with a keen eye. She and Fran's father had arrived late; had claimed they would never be able to find the place with the directions RJ had given them. They had thus gone to a gas station and bought a map of the city in order to find their way exactly seven blocks from City Hall.

"Daddy's parking the car, Frannie," her mother said breathlessly. "Well, I guess you gave us the right address, anyway."

"I work here every day, Mom. Of course I gave you the right address." Fran shot RJ a pained sidelong glance.

RJ was on his feet in an instant, pulling out a chair directly to Fran's left, waving Fran's mother over with a great flourish.

"Madame," he said with excessive politeness, "It is my honor to personally welcome you and your husband to Jungle Karma. Please, have a seat. Lily? Let's get a menu over here."

"I already ate," Fran's mother said, taking the seat and waving Lily away. "Your father made his famous pulled pork, Frannie. He always makes it on Saturday, no matter what. No matter _what_"

"Mom, can't you at least have a salad or something?" Fran looked pleadingly at Lily and gestured toward the menus. "At least see what's on the menu. I'll show you the ones that were my idea, they have a little pink flower next to them-"

"I already filled myself up. _Someone_ had to. Your father cooked enough for three, except there were only two of us. Be such a shame to let that good food go to waste."

Fran was silent. She looked down at her hands and began picking at her nails. RJ peeked around her at her mother, with a patient smile on his face.

"Fran has really turned this place around. Before she came to work here, I was pulling recipes out of the dumpster behind Domino's. I mean, I had an idea or two, but nothing like the stuff that comes out of Fran's head. Would you have believed that pineapple and cinnamon are actually two of our most popular toppings? I would have never thought of either one of--"

Fran's father arrived, and with a brief hesitation and a deep sigh, RJ assumed the role of host once again.

"You're all sweaty, Frannie," Fran's mother whispered. She picked up her napkin and began dabbing at her daughter's forehead. "Doesn't this place have an air conditioner?"

"I'm not hot."

"It doesn't have an air conditioner?"

"Of course it has an air conditioner!"

Fran's father took the seat beside his wife. He waved Lily over, calling her "waitress".

"Get us a menu, let's see what you people got! Hey!"

"Frank, I told them we already ate," Fran's mother hissed.

"What the hell did you tell them a stupid thing like that for? We didn't eat a damn thing. What is this, Dolores? Huh? Why'd you tell them a stupid ass thing like that for? I didn't eat. You didn't eat. None of us ate--"

"I had a _sandwich_ before we left."

"A sandwich. Oh, you and your sandwiches, who can fill up on a sandwich? Nobody can fill up on a sandwich. Come on, you got to try this stuff out, we never been here before, maybe it ain't so bad. You don't know. Hey, Frannie, girl, what's good here, huh?"

"Everything's good here, Daddy," Fran said quietly.

"Yeah, right. No, really, what can your mother and I eat?"

"Well, Mr--" RJ began.

"Ah, buddy, let's start off on the right foot. I ain't Mr. nobody. I'm Frank. Just like you're, ah... a couple'a letters. I'll remember it sooner or later. And this here is my wife Dolores, and that's that. I ain't Mr. nobody and she ain't Mrs. nobody."

"Frank, then. I think you'll find our selection quite enticing. Mostly thanks to the creative mind of your daughter-"

"Excuse me," Fran said suddenly, hastily getting up from the table. She narrowly missed bumping into Theo, who was carrying a large platter of cheese and pepperoni filled egg rolls.

"Hey, where are you going, Fran, these are gonna get cold!" Theo said, half-whining.

"Uh, excuse me. You two, help yourself. Theo, give them anything they want. I don't care if you have to order it from another restaurant." RJ followed Fran, leaving a bewildered Theo to take Frank and Dolores' orders.

* * *

He found her sitting on the steps leading up to RJ's kitchen in the loft. She had her hands wrapped around her belly, and she was speaking to herself.

No, not to herself.

To their child.

"...But that's just Grandma and Grandpa. That's just how they are. They don't mean anything bad. They love Mommy very, very much, and they love you very, very much, too. They just have a... a weird way of showing it, sometimes. But don't worry, because I bet the second they lay their eyes on you, little Bobby or Stacy, they'll turn completely around. They'll do a 360 or a 180 or something and they'll be the nicest, quietest, most loving and caring grandparents you've ever seen. I just know it."

She took a deep, shaky breath.

"But... if they don't... don't worry. Because I'm-- because Mommy's never going to be like that. Mommy's going to love you just the way you are, forever. No matter what. And Daddy will, too. And we're never going to fight, and we're never going to make you feel bad about something stupid like... like not being there to eat pulled pork, which you don't even like anyway. Though, maybe you will. I mean, just because I didn't, doesn't mean..."

She glanced up suddenly and saw RJ. A blush immediately spread across her cheeks, and she looked away, gasping.

"Um, hi," she said sheepishly.

He came to her and sat on the stair below her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh, sure. It's just... the baby. I... well, I read that, you know, the baby can feel all the emotions that you're feeling, you know, while it's inside you. I didn't want to... well, you know."

"Yeah."

Fran sighed.

"I don't know why they can't act like normal people just for one day. Just once, actually think about me. How I feel. How the baby feels. The poor baby. They can't even stop yelling for one day. Not even for one day."

"Parents... have a way of doing that. I know that they still love us, even if they hate what we're doing. But sometimes it seems like they hate our actions more than they love us. It goes off balance."

"I know my parents can't believe I'm leaving and having a baby. I know they think... oh, they think so many things. I don't want to talk about what they think."

"Let's not. Trust me, I know plenty about what parents think, and I also know you won't change their minds until their minds are ready to be changed."

Fran looked into his eyes.

"It's been like that for you, too, RJ? With your dad?"

"Oh, yeah. It was like that for years. But we came to an understanding. It took plenty of time, make no mistake. But we got through it."

"What does he think about... this?"

RJ smiled wryly.

"He thinks you're quite a catch. He's proud of me."

Another blush, and Fran snickered and looked away.

"I've never been a catch before."

"I beg to differ on that, but I digress."

"That's okay, go ahead and digress," Fran giggled. "It's better than going back down to my parents again."

"They don't like me, do they?" RJ asked earnestly. So earnestly that Fran could not bring herself to lie to him.

"No."

RJ nodded.

"They don't like anyone," Fran said, trying to soften the blow. "I mean, they really don't. They don't even like each other."

"Am I not good enough for you?"

Fran felt her blood run cold.

"I don't know. Probably not. I mean, I think you're perfect, but they said a whole bunch of things and they're just so wrong, RJ. I don't care what they say. Like you said, they'll come around. They will."

"I want to..." RJ sighed. "I want to be a good husband for you. I don't ever want you to have to suffer, or be alone, or want for anything. I want to be a good father to our child."

"You will be! Didn't you hear what I said? We're not going to be like my parents!"

"Fran... what if your parents are right?"

"They're not."

"Hear me out... Fran, I love you. I'd do anything for you. Anything."

"I know it! So would I--"

"But there are things I can't do. I can't change who I am. I'm always going to be..." he gestured emphatically, "Different. Eccentric. Not like other people. And, let's be honest, Fran... I have something of a past to contend with. A past that no one can ever know about, not even our child."

"So, we just won't tell her! Or him, whatever. I mean, I thought that was obvious..."

"Fran, I'm legally seventeen years old. I own a pizza shop. There are massive, massive gaps in my personal history. I'm just saying that I probably don't look like the most stable or dependable person to your parents. And I'm afraid they might be right."

"No. I told you, they aren't right. You are stable and dependable, and the reasons you didn't look like you were are _gone_ now. They're gone, and you can start completely over and forget about everything that happened!"

"But that's just it. I can't forget. It's who I am. I'm a Pai Zhuq master. I still have a spirit animal inside of me. That's not going anywhere."

"What are you saying, RJ? Really... what are you saying? That we made a mistake?" Fran's tone was harsh, she frowned and stood back on her heels.

"Absolutely not! Absolutely not! But I'm just afraid that as long as your parents think I'm this flaky person with a lie to explain everything, that might rub off on the baby. He or she might think it's true, and what proof would there be that it isn't?"

"But I'm not perfect, either! I have to lie about the last entire year, practically! About what I was doing, about how I know all you guys. And, and, I mean, I'm not exactly the best role model, either, RJ. I didn't have any friends growing up, I never played any sports, or was in any groups at school... I never went to a single dance, I never went to prom, I never had a boyfriend, I never did... I never did pretty much anything! Think about it! Our child is going to come to me for help with these problems, and I don't know what I'm supposed to say!"

RJ took her hand.

"Same here."

"But so what? So what? RJ, we made this baby, and we made this commitment. And we love each other. And we love the baby! And that's enough, isn't it?"

"I want it to be."

Fran stood up, a little stiffly.

"Then let's let it be. Forget about all these problems and let's just take it one step at a time. And the hell with what my parents think. Because they're wrong. And that's all there is to it. We're going to raise this baby together, as a family, and everything is going to turn out great."

RJ grinned up at her, then stood.

"I'll tell you one thing; if I was fate, I wouldn't want to mess with you right about now."

Fran laughed, a little too loudly and enthusiastically.


	3. Chapter 3

She woke up alone, and for a split second, forgot everything that had happened. She was at home, of course. Where else would she be? She was at home, and she would have to get up for work pretty soon.

Would she have time to go online and see if Frances Desiree Carter's new novel was available for pre-order yet? What time was it, anyway? And why did the bed feel so--

She opened her eyes.

And she remembered.

She was not at home. Or, rather, not at her parents' home. Of course not. She was a married woman now, and living with her husband.

Her husband, who she could have sworn had gone to sleep in the same bed as she had. And not that long ago, either. The wedding reception had run quite late; indeed, had only really picked up after the parents had left, and had run well into the wee hours. She and RJ had all but collapsed out of sheer exhaustion. No discussion had taken place as to the sleeping arrangements; they had simply (and quite naturally) fallen into RJ's bed without so much as a "good night".

She went to sit up, but found it rather difficult, as were most things these days. She rolled about clumsily for a few seconds, finally managing to push herself up on all fours and lower herself back down into a seated position.

"Oh, ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow."

The mattress, she discovered, was too soft. She had not had this kind of trouble getting up in her bed at home. This realization came with an unexpected pang of homesickness.

Fortunately, it was soon forgotten. She suddenly heard stirring coming from what sounded like at least two feet beneath her, and she glanced down, eyebrows raised.

"Mmmmph, Fran? Everything okay?" RJ was asking. He had clearly just woken up, was blinking a great deal, and was yawning.

He was also lying on the floor, covered with a blanket Fran had never seen; a quilt printed with a loud floral pattern. Hideously ugly.

"RJ?! What- what are you doing down there?" Fran cried, trying to lean over the side of the bed, but eventually resigning herself to the knowledge that she wasn't going to lean over anything again until she had the baby.

RJ yawned again and easily sat up. He stretched and smiled at her sleepily. Almost like a little boy, Fran thought with affection. So darned cute.

"What am I doing down-- what?" he asked, yawning.

"On the floor. What are you doing on the floor?"

"Hmm. Well... I think I was sleeping. Yes, in fact, I'm pretty sure."

"But why are you sleeping on the floor?!"

RJ smiled and held up a finger.

"Ah, well, Fran, when one is a kung fu master, as I am... or was, rather, one will find that one's body becomes rather accustomed to the rigors of training. One finds that, after a while of abstaining from simple creature comforts, one becomes dependent, almost, uh, on austerity. The simplicity and unforgiving nature of a hardwood floor seems strangely welcoming. There are lessons to be learned, Fran, from the hardwood floor. Gifts to be bestowed upon he, or she, who dares to take the plunge and sacrifice a night or two of soft, squishy comfort--"

"RJ, did I kick you in my sleep or something?"

"Harder than I ever thought possible. I kid thee not, you could have been a kangaroo."

"No! RJ, I didn't really, did I?!"

"Yeah."

Fran groaned and covered her eyes.

"Oh, RJ, I'm so sorry... I can't believe... why didn't you wake me up or something, huh? I'm so sorry, I had no idea--"

"Fran, it's no big. Actually, it was strangely refreshing. I really have let myself go the last couple of months. There's nothing better for the spine than a night on a nice hard floor."

"But..." Fran bit her lip. "It was our... our wedding night. We were supposed to... well, at least, we were supposed to, you know, sleep in the same bed! At least!"

"And we did. For awhile. And, maybe our plans went just slightly astray, as plans tend to do."

"I feel awful! RJ, I kicked you out of your own bed."

RJ smiled tenderly and crossed his arms on the mattress. He then lay his head down and looked up at her.

"I'm not the one with the baby. You need the bed more than I do."

"I guess. But from now on, you know, wake me up, will you? I feel so terrible. And that's such an ugly blanket, too, and you had to sleep with it all night!"

RJ let out a snicker and carelessly lifted a corner of the blanket, examining it thoughtfully.

"My home economics teacher would beg to differ on the ugly, I think. She told me she'd never seen such nice stitches. I think she said that to everyone, though."

"Home ec? You mean you made it?"

"With my own two hands. I agree about the material, though. What did I know? It was cheap."

"Oh," Fran blushed again. "Oh, jeez, RJ, I'm sorry. Why do I keep doing that? I'm always saying the wrong thing. It's not an ugly blanket."

"Of course it is."

"No. You made it, and it's beautiful."

RJ smiled thoughtfully.

"Our first morning, waking up together as husband and wife. Here it is, a moment we'll remember the rest of our lives, and we're talking about some blanket I made in seventh grade," he said wryly.

"A nice blanket," Fran said quickly. "A really, really beautiful..."

RJ pushed himself up, and he was now perched on the edge of the bed, gazing into the eyes of his bride.

"A really beautiful blanket," she whispered, her mouth dry.

"Fran, forget the blanket a minute. I want to remember this morning. I want to remember exactly what you look like. I want to... to capture your image in my mind forever. I want to tattoo it on my memory."

Fran swallowed.

"Okay."

RJ was close to her. So close. Her heart thudded in her chest. Something, some undercurrent of emotion pulsed through her. Passion? Fear? Love?

In her mind, she was still a virgin. An untouched innocent. Kissed once, impregnated in some cloudy dream like state that had only returned to her in brief, incomprehensible fragments. That girl who knew what to do in bed, knew what to do with a man, knew anything at all about sex, that girl was not her. Or, at least, she wasn't returning her calls.

And while she was now wed, both in the eyes of God and the eyes of the law, she was still, at her core, the same girl she had always been. She had kissed RJ yesterday, that was true. Her "first" kiss, on her wedding day. A romantic little peck. Just like a Good Girl. Of course, they had kissed That Night, but like everything else, it was such a foggy memory that it may as well have never happened.

And they were about to kiss now, and she had no idea what she was doing. But RJ was her husband. He loved her. And she loved him, too. Oh, she did. She _loved_ him. She had to show him that.

If she just knew what in the world she was supposed to _do!_

Her lips parted. Just slightly. She closed her eyes, supposing that was a good first step. That was what they always did on TV. Oh, why couldn't she remember what she had done that night?!

"Fran," RJ said softly.

"RJ," she sighed.

"You look like a blowfish," he whispered.

Her eyes popped open.

"What?!"

She realized that she had been puckering her lips and puffing out her cheeks in nervous anticipation. Not exactly the picture of sexual perfection.

"Just... chill out a second. No reason to jump the gun. I think things are going well just as they are, don't you?"

"Yes," Fran said immediately. "Yes, RJ, they're going nicely. Just talking. You and me. Just talking, and... sitting and talking."

"Mmm," RJ held out a hand, and put his finger to her lips. "Now, let's remove the talking from the equation."

"No talk--" Fran began, but RJ shook his head, shushing her. He closed his eyes and took a series of deep, _deep_ breaths. In and out. In and out.

Fran could only watch him. She had absolutely no idea what was going on, and she couldn't pretend she did.

After a minute or so of his deliberate breathing, he sighed and, seemingly refreshed, looked back at her.

"Now, wasn't that nice?" he asked.

"Sure?" Fran smiled weakly.

"Fran, trust me, it's nice. It's nice just being together. So much more natural. So much more _us_."

And, so, it came to pass; RJ expected nothing from Fran but what he had always expected; friendship, company, a dependable employee. She was decidedly "(his) girl", he openly described her as such, but aside from Fran moving in and the two of them sleeping in the same bed (most of the time).

And Fran pre-ordered Frances Desiree Carter's new novel; promoted, right on the cover, as "FDC's most passionate romp yet! Hot, steamy, irresistible!". She put it down after skimming through about twenty pages (right around the time that the heroine and her love interest decided to fill their swimming pool with champagne and rose petals, she realized that she wanted her 27.99 back) and never picked it back up again.

But he loved her. And she loved him.

And the status quo wasn't bad.

It wasn't bad.


	4. Chapter 4

Seven months in, Fran was in the kitchen on "light duty", excluded from anything too physically strenuous (i.e. tossing pizza crusts, delivering pizzas, bringing pizzas to customers' tables, getting drinks, essentially doing anything other than making change and filling the occasional salt shaker), and thus kept quite apart from her coworkers during the work day, try as she did to include herself.

One such morning, she popped in the kitchen during some downtime. Casey and Lily were laughing loudly, and Theo was rolling his eyes at Casey's rather lame joke as he refilled condiment bottles.

"I can't believe he said 'tarp!'" Lily half-shrieked with laughter. "Did he know?! Did he--"

"He had no idea! Theo, he had no idea, did he?" Casey leaned against the counter to steady himself, he was laughing so hard.

"Hey, guys," Fran said, trying to sound light-hearted. "What's everyone laughing about?"

The moment she announced herself, however, no one was laughing about anything. All eyes were on her, and all three were suddenly clustered around her, eyes wide, faces sober and eager to help. They had their _customer service_ faces on, Fran realized, _for crying out loud_.

"Fran! What is it?!" Lily asked. "Were we too loud?"

"Of course you were too loud," Theo scoffed. "They can hear you down the block. You never pay any attention to--"

"Fran, come on, sit down, sit down!" Casey said, taking her hand.

"You guys never take anyone else into consideration," Theo was saying. "Fran, put your feet up."

"No, no, she can't. I saw her try the other day," Lily said quietly.

"Are you tired? I bet you're tired. Theo, take over the register for her!" Casey hissed.

"Why should I do it? You should do it. I never see you take any initiative around here anymore. The tarp story is proof enough of that, I think."

"Oh, it's like that," Casey nodded irritably. "Yeah, well, I can see where you'd think that, Theo. I can absolutely see where you would--"

"You guys, one of you better go on register!" Lily snapped. "Someone's coming!"

Fran hadn't said a word during the entire exchange; she didn't need to. They were always like this now; treating her as though she were some fragile, delicate wisp always on the verge of crumbling. None of them seemed to have any idea how to act around a pregnant woman, and truth be told, Fran did not know how to behave _as_ a pregnant woman, either, so she didn't see where she had any right to fault them.

Instead, she complied. Because, it was true. They had been too loud; though, if she had gotten in on the joke, she would have likely laughed along with them, maybe even louder.

But her feet did hurt. And having someone take over the register for a little while wouldn't be so bad. Quite the opposite; it was heavenly, being able to sit down. She had a high stool she leaned against behind the register, but the chair in the kitchen was low, too low to see over the top of the counter, and it felt like sitting on a cloud. A beautiful, comfortable cloud of bliss.

"Fran, I forgot to tell you what RJ did today," Lily said, an adoring smile crawling across her face. "It was the cutest thing I've ever seen. He is going to make such a good daddy."

Fran smiled weakly. Another adorable RJ story. And how many of those had she heard over the last few months, she wondered. Too many, it seemed, to even keep straight. For RJ, it seemed, was always doing something unspeakably sweet or endearing, constantly proving to everyone what a wonderful husband he was now, and what a wonderful father he would be soon. She would have sworn it was a compulsion, that he was desperately, desperately attempting to compensate for something, were it not for the fact that she knew that was just who he was.

Well, she was in no mood to hear about it right now.

"Oh, yeah, right, was it the thing with the..." Fran made a vague hand gesture. She had no idea, no idea whatsoever what RJ had done today, but pretending to know was, she had found, an easy way to avoid having to hear yet another enthusiastic anecdote about how she had married the greatest guy in the world.

"Yes! You saw it," Lily squealed. "When he told her she didn't need a pony!"

Fran smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, that was... really nice," she said weakly. "Sweet. Really sweet."

Lily looked at Fran tenderly, and took her hand.

"Fran, listen... I talked to RJ--"

_Of course you did. Everyone's talked to him._ Fran thought, a little bitterly. _He's talked to everybody. He's everyman for everyman._

"...And I suggested that we should take the day off, just you and me, and kind of have a little... girl time. And so... he gave us the rest of the day off. If you want to, that is. I mean, I know how much you love working the cash register all day." Lily grinned wryly.

Fran looked up at her. Now, that was the best idea she had heard in weeks. Literally weeks. Fran was exhausted, body and soul, both from living and breathing Jungle Karma (the smell of pizza and garlic never really went away, of course. Not even upstairs. Not even in bed. She could smell it in her sleep) for the last three and a half months, and from the gradually dawning realization that her childhood, extended and awkward though it was, was now (or would soon be) _officially over_.

And nothing was turning out the way she had expected it to. Adulthood, and married life, and no longer being Dolores and Frank's Little Frannie, and having that bizarre, foreign "Mrs." in front of her name on her bills, nothing was what she had expected. And while she could write a lot of her bad feelings off to hormones and exhaustion, there were still nagging fragments of doubt, of sadness, of loneliness that she couldn't reconcile.

She had all but shoved those feelings aside, and convinced herself they didn't exist, or they weren't relevant anyway. Everything was _just fine_. Everything would continue to be just fine, but the longer things remained just fine, the less that really meant.

Maybe it was time to finally talk about it.

* * *

"Fran, um... have you had any tests done?" Lily asked as they strolled through the Oceanview Mall, side by side. Bright lights, loud music and a symphony of greasy smells surrounded them. It was hardly the place to go to relax, but Fran found it a pleasant change of pace nonetheless. And the company was certainly good.

"Um, what... what kind of tests do... do you mean?" she asked. _Ooh, Pier 1 Imports._

"You know..." Lily grinned. "Do you know what it is? Boy or girl?"

"Oh, you mean an ULTRASOUND," Fran said, blushing a little. "I, uh... I didn't want to know. I told the doctor I wanted it to be a surprise."

Lily shot her an admiring glance.

"Not many people these days want to wait."

"I really want it to be a surprise." She took a deep breath; walking was exhausting these days, but she didn't want to look too winded or frail. The last thing she wanted was for Lily to get the impression that Fran was in a bad way and decide to call off the girl time for her sake.

They passed by an accessory shop; a cute, floral-print tote was all but screaming at Fran to come and have a look at it, and she sort of shuffled aside, making a beeline for the window. Lily giggled a bit and joined her.

"That would make such a cute diaper bag!" Lily exclaimed.

Fran sobered.

_It would,_ she realized. _It really would. But I just wanted it for me._ As she looked back at Lily, she felt a pang of guilt, that here was pretty, carefree, single young Lily, floating through a shopping mall like a breeze, and she was more on point with soon-to-be-motherhood than Fran, who was the soon-to-be-mother.

"Yeah, look, it even has a pocket on the outside," Fran said lamely, "For... baby... stuff. Of some kind."

Lily glanced sideways at Fran, and then smiled conspiratorially.

"Or a book..." she whispered.

Fran found herself laughing aloud, a sort of deviousness rushing through her body. Lily _gets it_ after all, she realized. She shouldn't have been surprised, of course.

"Or a book."

"Maybe a spicy romance novel," Lily was laughing.

"Yeah. With vampires."

The girls stopped laughing, and Lily took a long, hard look at Fran; poor, exhausted, red-cheeked and red-eyed Fran. Something was definitely up. Something more than mere health concerns, mere fatigue. There was something in her demeanor; so deeply-rooted that perhaps Fran herself didn't even see it. It was as though she was trying, taking painstaking effort to disguise something with exaggerated cheerfulness and quirkiness. And she did it well. Anyone else would be convinced That Was Just Fran. The fact that her "maternity wear" consisted of dresses and smocks that were better suited to a kindergarten teacher; bright, loud, clashing colors, overalls, a vast array of hats. And pins. Always pins. "Flair", someone had once called it. Pins with cute, ironic messages, children's book characters, cute anime cats and hamsters.

She didn't look like a married woman, Lily realized. She looked like a teenager rebelling against the changes in her body by wearing baby-doll dresses and tights.

Granted, she had a dignity about her. All pregnant women did, Lily supposed. A quiet, nuanced air of oneness with the universe, with creation itself. As new life formed within her, she had become quieter, more thoughtful. There were times that, during down periods at the restaurant, or while on break, Fran would simply sit and stare at her belly, hands clasped, a melancholy but truly wise expression on her face.

But when she was with other people, even when she was with RJ, the melancholy turned to false cheer. False, almost desperate cheer.

Would Fran talk about it? Would she say anything? How would Lily approach it?

She didn't know. Fran's attention was straying, and Lily put on a friendly smile.

"Come on, let's go to Hadlinger's. Get a whole new wardrobe."

Fran laughed. This time it was not a gleeful laugh. It had a bite to it.

"I can't fit into the pants I just bought last week anymore. Let's wait on the wardrobe. Besides... who do I need to impress? I'll be wearing t-shirts and mom jeans for the rest of my life."

Lily frowned.

"Fran, you're still young. And, I meant, you know. For after you have the baby. Maybe something kind of... sexy. You could be a sexy mom!"

Fran shook her head.

"No, I, uh... I don't do sexy."

Lily was at a loss.

"Fran, when's the last time you did something for you? Just... for you? Not for the baby, not for RJ, just for you?"

"I don't know. Oh, I, uh... I had iced tea the other day! Instead of... of soy milk. You know, with... lunch."

"As... adventurous as that sounds," Lily giggled, "I mean like... when's the last time you had a manicure?"

"Oh, I, uh... I don't do manicures. I like to bite my nails too much."

"What about a facial? Or a cute new haircut!" Lily gasped. "I was watching Maven of the Stars last night, and Carrissa Nance, you know Carrissa Nance? She was on Heck's Oven? She has the CUTEST new--"

"No, Lily... that's okay. I'm... I'm fine. I don't really..."

She was being a spoil-sport, and she knew it. But she didn't. She DIDN'T go in for things like manicures and facials and cute new hairdos. Much as her mother had pleaded with her during her adolescence, to _just, Frannie, take a LITTLE interest in how you look! You can't have your nose stuck in a book the rest of your life! What about a husband?_, she had never gotten the hang of maintaining any kind of beauty regimen. A quick comb-through of her hair, a quick side-sweep of her bangs, quick pigtails, a quick once-over her face with a washcloth and a little chapstick was all she had ever found routine in.

_And look at me. I found a husband real easy. All I had to do was get drunk._

"Well, then... how about... books? Let's... head over to Boundaries and Gallant. Sit down, and read a... a book," Lily was still smiling, though her enthusiasm had waned significantly.

"Oh, no, no. You'll be bored. I mean, when I get into a story, I can just sit there for hours and hours and hours and... and hours."

"Hey, this is your day off. Let's do it! Let's find some really trashy romance novel and make fun of it."

Fran couldn't conceal her amusement. She _loved_ making fun of trashy romance novels.

* * *

"You know what I think?" Lily asked, a little too loudly. She was on her fourth Minty Mochappuccpresso and the caffeine was really starting to get to her. "Man, these are great. Best thirty four dollars I ever spent! Anyway, you know what I think? About Maribelle and Stephan?"

Maribelle and Stephan were the heroes of Gynna Amelie Pipp's 99 cent bodice-ripper classic, Alone and Undignified, probably the worst novel either of them had ever set eyes on.

"They're really... two-dimensional," Fran giggled. Her lite, caffeine-free white tea was nearly full. Nonetheless, she was having a good time. A better time than she had had in months. The girl time was turning out to be a brilliant success, even without the facials and the gossip and the... other things that girls did together.

"I mean besides that! I think that the reason Stephan won't kiss her in front of his parents isn't because he doesn't love her!" she gasped. "It's because he loves her SO MUCH he wouldn't be able to control himself and he'd want to have her, right then and there, right on the floor like... like a dirty guy!"

Fran was laughing so hard she struggled to catch her breath.

"No, no, Lily. You don't even know. I skipped ahead while you were in the bathroom."

"What?" Lily swatted at her across the table. "You cheater! So, what happened?"

Fran covered her mouth, shaking.

"The coffee table. _The coffee table._ After the barn burned down and she was dressing his wounds."

"They did it on the coffee table?!"

"I guess he loved her after all!"

The two girls roared with hysterical peals of laughter. The cashier at the cafe shot them a disapproving look, but could do nothing; they had bought nearly forty dollars worth of drinks, even if they weren't going to buy any merchandise, she had no impetus to throw them out. Not yet, anyway.

"Wait, wait, how did the barn burn down?" Lily asked.

"Melody did it! She saw them in there together and kind of went... crazy, a little."

Melody was Stephan's jealous, overprotective old maid sister who hated and despised Maribelle for taking her darling baby brother "Steffie" away from her.

"No! I liked Melody, I didn't think she was going to turn out to be like that. So, read me where they do it!"

Fran blushed. Lily had been doing all the reading aloud up to that point; she had read where Maribelle's pantyhose had caught on the rosebush and torn away, revealing the young beauty's shapely, supple calves. She had read where Maribelle and her emotionally abusive ex-fiance had made out on the balcony, been startled, and had nearly fallen off, only to be rescued by a towel-clad Stephan. She had even read, in a strangely perfect Jamaican accent, the passage where Einie the housemaid had given Maribelle a pep talk for dealing with emotionally distant men. But here was the most explicit scene in the entire book; the scene depicted on the cover; man and woman on a coffee table, limbs askew, hands everywhere, practically tangible passion etched on the faces of the two lovers.

"Uh... no, I'll show you where it is. You read it. You do voices better than me."

Lily folded her arms and leaned across the table. And there it was again. Fran was hiding from something.

"Come on, Fran, it's just a book. Just a... really... crappy book. I bet it'll be a hoot. I want to hear you say..." Lily skipped to the sex scene. "'Oh, Stephan, yes, there. Yes, right there. Oh, your hands are like fire.' 'Only because you burn me up inside.'"

Fran laughed.

"No, no, you... you do it so much better."

Lily sighed, shaking her head.

"Fran, it's just... you know you can talk to me, right? I mean... right?"

Fran immediately became all but engrossed in her glass of tea.

"Of course. You're my friend. And we've been talking!"

"Not... not really."

"We talked about Maribelle and Stephan! And we talked about--"

"Fran!"

Fran picked up the book and began flipping absently through its pages.

"There was another really, really good part. You were in the bathroom an awfully long time, and I found..."

Lily leaned back in her chair. Fran had completely shut down, emotionally. She clearly wanted to pretend nothing was going on. She wanted to pretend so badly that she wouldn't even acknowledge that anything had taken place.

Lily could not think of a way to get through. In the end, she chugged her Minty Mochappuccpresso and grabbed the book from Fran with a grin.

"Okay, get ready. I'm going to ham it up like you've never seen."

Fran grinned, cupping her face in her hands, blinking repeatedly.

"I'm ready."

Lily sighed.

"'Oh, Stephan. You do care. You truly do care--'"


End file.
